Poikle
by CatChewer
Summary: Don't be mislead by the title -it's completely random, this is a very dark fic (muahaha, I hope so). Something is suspiciously wrong with a student at Hogwarts, and random bursts of Dark magic keep showing up here and there in Hogwarts castle.


A/N: Another dark one off :P. Hope you like it, it's really long hehehe. Sorry about the latin at the top, the grammar is probably terrible, and it probably makes no sense, as I used an english-to-latin translator that only translated half of the words I put in. sigh.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, 'cept the plot. Is it really woth sueing me? :(

* * *

Ego nasci

Est solum, casses corporeus,

Obscurus zabulus gubernare tibi

Proles tu est, non sperare

Ego dominus tibi anima

Tibi mustum mori.

* * *

It's painful.  
  
I can't control it.  
  
I'm not the one walking through the corridors with my heavy book bag. I'm not the one talking to Harry and Ron on our way to charms. I'm not the one casting these spells. This isn't even my wand.  
  
I can never look at Harry straight in the eye. I know why, but I can't tell him. He might discover something I want him to discover. I can't tell him of the bloody dreams I've had every night. Always someone dying, and never cleanly.  
  
I can't tell them the real reason I have dark patches under my eyes.  
  
"It's just exam stress." I hear myself say.  
  
They shrug, and agree.  
  
It's not me smiling; it's not me laughing. It doesn't even sound like me.  
  
I want to reach out, break through. Tell them why there are tears in my eyes at night, why I'm not sleeping. No one suspects anything. No one knows anything. I'm trapped, and so are they.  
  
My moods change to match. Mostly eager, and that isn't so different from my usual moods.  
  
No one has noticed the wand I use; no one has noticed that my eyes are turning off colour, misting over. No one has noticed the paleness of my skin, the heat of my body rising steadily with each passing day, when it tries to rid me of something foreign. No one has noticed, and I'm scared.

* * *

It started in the summer, when I foolishly assumed He was out the way., that I would never have to speak his name for a while.  
  
That wasn't the first of my wrong assumptions.  
  
I had applied to work as a cashier. Just for the extra pocket money. I hated the idea of that job, but I needed the money.  
  
I should have realized how strange the situation was, when a man in formal dress picked me up to bring me to my first day of work. I should have realized how he sneered slightly at my parents. I had assumed it was a smile.  
  
I should have realized that muggle haters still wore muggle clothing when it was convenient.  
  
And convenient it was for this situation.  
  
When the man took me back home, I was dazed and not remembering much. Must have been a memory charm.  
  
Those can be broken through.  
  
I did, a few nights later.  
  
I started to dream. Not that horrible at first, but they were dark dreams, of the type Harry had described to me that he had had last year. I wondered if they were dangerous? But my memories said they weren't.  
  
I shouldn't assume. I wish I hadn't.  
  
He chuckles in the back of my mind. He finds me amusing.  
  
That's when I realized what must have happened. He broke my memory charm. It felt like as if He had broken my neck.  
  
A few weeks back He couldn't stand my distress. He allowed me to record a diary.  
  
This is it.  
  
I only hope someone will find it in time. I shouldn't assume. No one will find it.  
  
The dreams were getting bloodier every night. I had no comfort. The Dark Lord took residence in my dreams. He talked to me. I never talked back.  
  
He opened my mind like a book. Drank all my experiences. He laughed at my pain, my humiliation. He soured when he saw memories of Harry.  
  
He laughed at the carefully kept secret of Snape, the double-crosser. He already knew.  
  
I'm scared of Him. He knows this. He can look it into my emotions. He feels what I feel, I feel what He feels, and it hurts. Only He stops me from crying in the day. At night, not even He can stop the pain.  
  
It's very Dark magic.

* * *

Dumbledore has started to follow me. I'm avoiding him. I don't want to. I want someone to realize. I want someone to know. I want Him to go, leave. I don't care how anymore. Dumbledore must have discovered a pattern on the random bursts of Dark magic around the castle. I had always been there when a teacher arrived. No one suspected me, except Dumbledore.  
  
The teachers were edgy and uptight.  
  
The dreams have gotten worse. He has started to teach me Dark magic in my sleep. He explains the effects of each curse, each lethal potion in images.  
  
I've learnt the Avada curse. But not only that. I've learnt even worse torture methods than the Cruciatus.  
  
I can't erase the horror from my mind. The images replay themselves all the time.  
  
I never thought that even the Dark Lord was this inhumane.  
  
I had also always thought that education and books were what would save the world.  
  
I hadn't ever been so wrong. That was my greatest mistake. The Dark Lord was teaching me dark curses. And he was explaining how I was to use them, and on who.  
  
I tried not to listen, but my ears only heard him.  
  
But I have one comfort.  
  
Even the Dark Lord is having trouble controlling my screams at night now. Harry has noticed something is dangerously wrong. I'm turning violent.  
  
I beat Crookshanks when he spooked me one night.  
  
I didn't want to. Crookshanks is now recovering at Hagrid's. Harry told no one, but he is very suspicious, and I'm glad.  
  
The Dark Lord is not.  
  
Harry has noticed how my eyes glaze over when my stronger emotions are being suppressed.  
  
I feel tainted. Filled with horror. I was slowly dieing, I could feel my mind deteriorating under the influence of the Dark Lord. I want to stay away from Harry, protect him, but he's the only one who understands something is wrong.  
  
When we talk of the Dark Lord and his plans, Harry notices that I no longer use His name. The Dark Lord has forbidden me to speak his name. Or think it.

* * *

Ron has started giving me sideways glances. Harry must have told him. I'm forced to smile at him. Forced to help him with his homework as if it were the most normal thing in the world.  
  
I have a constant migraine now. The Dark Lord is clouding my mind. I can hardly do anything by myself now. It's him who feeds me, talks, responds to tricky arithmancy questions.  
  
He's knowledgeable. A year ago I would have been delighted to meet someone of such a high intelligence. Now I'm just horrified.

* * *

Last night my dream was the worst. He has finally told me the details of His final plan.  
  
How he plans to kill his rival.  
  
Harry.  
  
He has me running towards the dungeons. I try and make as much noise as I can, but I can't. I have stolen Harry's invisibility cloak and map.  
  
I can feel His joy, at finally vanquishing his greatest enemy. Even his boyish joy at being back at Hogwarts' ancient passages.  
  
It disgusts me.  
  
I was surprised that the Dark Lord would even want to remember a happy memory of his childhood.  
  
I feel limited sympathy. Not for the dark Lord and what he is now, but for what he was.  
  
Tom Riddle.  
  
I can feel my disgust mingled with His.  
  
I am outside of Snape's storeroom. I've been here before. The memory flashes up suddenly. He's viewing my memories again, and laughing harshly.  
  
I was sure that the laughter had come out from my mouth, but he had carefully suppressed the laughter. Last time he had let Himself show through me it had terrorized a few first-year Hufflepuffs, and a few nasty rumours had spread about me. I was glad. Someone might notice.  
  
Too late now. I was unwarding the storeroom door. In a normal state I wouldn't have been able to. I'm using Dark magic. The Dark Lord urges haste. This castle has ancient wards that detect Dark magic. I'm glad. I sense apprehension from the Dark Lord.  
  
I'm plucking the ingredients down.  
  
"Venenare araneus," He whispers into my mind. I pick it off the shelf. A sickly pale blue substance.  
  
"Aconitum cera." Some waxy substance.  
  
"Dendroaspis polylepis." He had to suppress my scream. An ugly snake-like creature was residing in a horrible yellow liquid, its pale eyes watching me.  
  
"Chumana." This one took a while to find. It was strange statuette made of white granite. It was a curled up snake, with a rearing head. The statuette was unusually cold; it numbed my fingers.  
  
"Morus aquosus." I found this one at the very back of the storeroom, well hidden from view. A small, thumb-sized vial, containing a thick, sticky- black liquid. As soon as I picked it up I almost dropped it again. A sudden cold had caught up into my lungs. My heart would have stopped beating if the Dark Lord had not kept it going.  
  
Liquid death.  
  
I suddenly understood why the Dementors had the effect they had. The Dark Lord couldn't repress my shudder.  
  
I took a few more standard potion ingredients, hardly breathing. It was so difficult with the little vial in my hand, spreading cold to the rest of my body. I would have been dead, if the dark Lord wasn't there to keep me alive.  
  
I warded Snape's office door with very Dark wards. I selected a small, gold cauldroun from a cupboard, conjured a small fire, and started to work. I placed the statuette next to the cauldroun. A sort of poisonous blue light radiated from it, enveloping the small gold cauldron.  
  
I talked to the Dark Lord for the first time. Due to fatigue I had forgotten how vile he was.  
  
"We do not use the morus aquosus on him directly because that would kill him directly." He answered.  
  
I shivered.  
  
I put in the deceased serpent with the pale eyes, careful to not tip too much of the preservation liquid into the cauldron. It's eyes lighted up with the statuette's radiance. It looked oddly alive.  
  
I added the other ingredients at specific times, following the Dark Lord's instructions against my will. I was secretly fascinated, and the Dark Lord knew. He explained what each ingredient really was, what foul creature it was extracted from, the significance of the statuette. It represented a snake God. It had the power to bring something back to life.  
  
So this was the type of Dark potion the Dark Lord had used on himself, to come back. I looked at the dead snake in the cauldron, drowning in a greenish slime.  
  
I finally picked up the little, black vial. How I didn't black out is beyond me.  
  
I heard loud banging outside the door, shouts. Someone was trying to get in. They had discovered the use of Dark magic. I was forced to turn my gaze back to the small cauldron. They couldn't save me. Or Harry.  
  
I felt sick. The potions fumes were making me violently ill. The Dark Lord had made sure I had eaten nothing the last few days. I had thought it was to control me easier, as I would be weaker. It was actually to stop me doing what I did now. A compulsive reaction, not even the Dark Lord could stop it.  
  
It was pure stomach acid, and it was now lying together with a pool of thick saliva on the stone floor. A foul, bitter taste stayed in my mouth. I turned back to my potion. I could hear more voices outside the door. I couldn't decipher what they were saying. I was shivering, my eyes going in and out of focus. I poured the thick black liquid into the cauldron. It simmered for a while.  
  
Suddenly I was thrown back in a flash of negative light.  
  
I hit my head against the wall. Only the Dark Lord stopped me from passing out. Blood was pouring into my hair, dripping all the way down my robes. I stood up shakily, and saw something slithering in the black depths of the potion.  
  
I scooped the movement up with an unprotected hand. The potion was immensely cold, enough to kill someone, but the Dark Lord kept me alive.  
  
A small black snake slithered up my hand. Its venomous green eyes stared at me shiftily. It was poised to strike.  
  
"Ego possidere' te." I said in a low growling voice. I had no idea what I had just said.  
  
Parsel-tongue.  
  
The little snake wrapped it's cold frame around my wrist. I walked over to the fire. The voices outside the door were even louder. I heard Dumbledore. A few hours ago I would have been hopeful. There was little left of me now to feel any emotion. Just possession alone was enough to destroy a being utterly.  
  
I took a small handful of floo powder. I throw it weakly into the fireplace. Emerald fires dazzle my unfocused eyes.  
  
"Gryffindor tower." I said. It was a strong voice. Much stronger than what I was at that moment. It wasn't me who had said it.  
  
I stumbled into the Gryffindor common room. I walked towards the boy's dormitory stairs.  
  
I woke up within. I realized what was going to happen. I resisted, pulled back, only to end up stumbling forwards.  
  
He was laughing, in my ear. He was laughing, and it was coming out of me in painful gasps. I was cackling like a maniac, like those patients at St. Mungo's. I felt my eyes see in a different light. Darkness. I can see movement, shifting, shades.  
  
So he has finally taken over me completely. I could feel myself be pushed away completely from my mind. I lost control of my body. I was merely a spectator now.  
  
I felt my feet take step after painfully slow step towards the boy's dormitories. Up the stairs. Everyone that could save Harry now was in the other side of the castle, in the dungeons, trying to break into the empty office. Too late now.  
  
I opened the door to the sixth years' dormitory. I knew where Harry's bed was. I could see several figures, fast asleep in this new light. I could see they're hearts beating in a faint reddish gleam.  
  
The whole of Harry was burning a blinding bright red and gold.  
  
So this was how the Dark Lord viewed the world.  
  
This is how he saw Harry.  
  
My feet were walking towards his bed. He was fidgeting slightly.  
  
I looked at his closed eyelids. His eyes flew open, and stared straight into my face.  
  
He screamed.  
  
The others were awoken, and they started to climb out of their beds.  
  
"RUN!" Harry was screaming to the others. "GET SOMEONE!"  
  
"Harry." I heard myself say, in a low, cold growl.  
  
Harry got to his wand, stood up and pointed it straight to my heart.  
  
"Do it." I said.  
  
Inside, I wanted him to. Rid me of this foul demon.  
  
Harry was hesitating. A seductive smile spread across my lips. I never smiled seductively. Harry had understood. His eyes were watering. His scar must be burning now. I could feel his pain mingled with the Dark Lords.  
  
"Useful little witch. She was very useful. Very good head." I was saying in the same hateful voice. "I wonder if you had ever realized that Harry."  
  
"GET OUT OF HER!" He shouted. His pain was cutting into me.  
  
"You realize Harry, if I do that, she dies. She's been like this since, oh, such a long time ago. Since the summer in fact."  
  
Harry's eyes registered his shock.  
  
"I guess you never paid enough attention to her to realize that she hasn't been quite herself."  
  
The rest of the boys were staring from me to Harry.  
  
"Hermione?" Ron asked carefully.  
  
"Oh no. This isn't, Hermione is her name is it? You want to see her?" I asked him, my eyes still on Harry.  
  
I suddenly felt a lurch in my brain. The Dark Lord was pushing my conscience into view.  
  
I gasped. I hadn't realized how difficult it was to breathe. I crumpled to Harry's feet. My lungs were collapsing into themselves. I had forgotten how to breathe. The blood was still flowing freely from the gaping wound on the back of my head.  
  
"Sorry." I managed slurr out from my long unused lips, before the Dark Lord took control once more. I immediately felt my body strengthen, and I was able to steadily get up, breathing normally. Ron's mouth was opening a silent scream of horror. The rest of the boy's in the room were fearfully quiet.  
  
"Go on Harry. She's hardly worth sparing now." The Dark Lord mocked softly. I felt a cold form move up my arm to the back of my neck. The snake.  
  
"You're foul." Harry said firmly.  
  
I just smiled.  
  
"Hermione. I'm so sorry." Harry said. "You know what I have to do."  
  
"How noble. Very well, your little witch friend has just agreed with you. I suggest you do this quickly."  
  
Harry glared at me straight in the eye. I felt the snake wriggle on my shoulder. Harry couldn't see it in the dark.  
  
I knew that look on Harry's face. When he was determined to not do what he is told. He had used it so many times during Potions, directing it towards Snape. I felt sick again. The Dark Lord was too distracted to notice what I had noticed.  
  
I had the sudden urge to just scream at Harry.  
  
And I did.  
  
"It's not worth it Harry! Just get it over with! Destroy him!"  
  
It was in my own pathetically shrilly voice. Harry was confused for a while, and so was the Dark Lord. Harry hesitated. The Dark Lord carefully took control again, laughing in my ear. I shivered internally.  
  
Suddenly the snake slithered free from my tangled hair, and jumped onto Harry. It slithered onto his leg, and bit him firmly.  
  
He screamed. His flesh was bruising a black-blue rapidly, spreading quickly.  
  
I was chuckling softly. Ron had picked up his wand.  
  
"STUPEFY!" He cried, straight at me. It was too late. The Dark Lord had left already. I fell again.  
  
With the stupefy curse on me, I couldn't move at all. I felt myself close down, the last shuddering breath leave my lungs. My muscles were screaming for oxygen I didn't have the strength to provide.  
  
My eyelids flickered.

* * *

A/N: Wow. I suck at endings :P Tell me what you thought please!!! I love constructive advice, even if its insulting lol.

* * *


End file.
